Big ferns grew along the walls, here and there "Our Lord's Candles" lifted high torches not yet lighted, the ambitious mountain stream skipped and circled and fell over its rocky bed, while many canyon wrens were singing.
"Do you think," she said, "that anyone driving along here at an ordinary rate of speed would see that car ?" "No," said Donald, getting her idea, "I don't believe they would." "All right, then," said Linda.

"Toe up even and I'll race YoU to the third curve where you see the big white sycamore." Donald had a fleeting impression of a flash of khaki, a gleam of red, and a wave of black as they started.

He ran with all the speed he had ever attained at a track meet.

He ran with all his might.

He ran until his sides strained and his breath came short; but the creature beside him was not running; she was flying; and long before they neared the sycamore he knew he was beaten, so he laughingly cried to her to stop it.